


A New Perspective

by Hibibun



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Asexual Character, Catboy Leitner, Demisexual Jon, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Misuse of Beholding Powers, Nonbinary Jon, Seduction to the Dark Side, mild bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:01:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26164555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hibibun/pseuds/Hibibun
Summary: “Statement of Jonathan Sims regarding a tome that… appears to transmogrify humans to have catlike features. Statement given direct from subje—Ow,” Jon glares, trying to ignore the unintentional way he feels his newfound tail swish to reflect his annoyance, ears flattening. Elias’s normally well-manicured nails have elongated to claws, and currently one was digging through the thin fabric of his skirt and into his thigh.“Oops,” Elias says, infuriatingly blasé. Jon hesitates another moment, before sighing and leaving the tape recorder going. If the topic ceased being important, surely it would turn itself off.“You could at least pretend you didn’t do this on purpose.”for day 5 - alternate universe
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49
Collections: Jonelias Week 2020





	A New Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> this is the self indulgent fic i gifted to myself this week and by virtue of that very little set up for this AU dynamic. i just wanted to use the day five prompts for catboys and was encouraged. thank you theo for suggesting specifically catboy leitners.
> 
> also jon's gender identity is not super elaborated on here, but he has been experimenting with presentation and finding comfort in some more typically 'feminine' clothing, but hasn't given much thought to pronouns or labels beyond it yet. he just realized after hiding out at georgie's and needing to borrow her clothes again that wow skirts are nice and he deserves to feel good about that after everything that's happened. if i ever play around in this universe again, the progression may develop, but for now. here we go!

“Statement of Jonathan Sims regarding a tome that… appears to transmogrify humans to have catlike features. Statement given direct from subje—Ow,” Jon glares, trying to ignore the unintentional way he feels his newfound tail swish to reflect his annoyance, ears flattening. Elias’s normally well-manicured nails have elongated to claws, and currently one was digging through the thin fabric of his skirt and into his thigh.

“Oops,” Elias says, infuriatingly blasé. Jon hesitates another moment, before sighing and leaving the tape recorder going. If the topic ceased being important, surely it would turn itself off.

“You could at least pretend you didn’t do this on purpose.”

Elias makes a noise implying he’s listening, but doesn’t do much else besides repeat that same flexing of claws and Jon hates the hiss that leaves his mouth. It’s unnatural, and for that reason it catches Elias’s attention, an upturn to the corner of his already smiling mouth, which Jon recognizes as the man holding back laughter.

“Don’t tell me you weren’t curious,” he tries to justify knowing it to be the truth, but one Jon will protest.

“Yes, but I’m not so rash as to mess with any of those cursed things; which leads me to believe you knew what it would do,” Jon retorts, as there are now too many concerns and questions arising that he doesn’t know the answers to and will simply have to wait out. It is possible Elias knows, but extremely doubtful he’d tell him.

At least if he was stuck in this state as well that had to mean whatever they were in for couldn’t be dangerous—just unpleasant.

He shifts back trying to squirm away from Elias who had only been getting closer. It wasn’t like he had very many places to go what with being on the edge of the sofa and a coffee table in front of him. Next time, he’ll think twice about Elias asking if he’d like to see something in such a vague manner when he’s over. Not that he wasn’t prepared on some level for it to be undoubtedly supernatural, but this was something he hadn’t necessarily signed up for.

During his complaints, Elias has now fully managed to straddle the leg that isn’t pressed to the side of the couch, and Jon is mentally cataloguing the notion that whatever the book did to them, it must have made him feel the need to be twice as physically annoying. Surely.

“Still unpleasant?” Elias whispers, mouth ghosting the shell of his ear. He raises a hand to gently tug at the corner of one of Jon’s cat ears, observing the way it flicks out of his grasp.

“Get out of my head,” Jon bats at his shoulder, but doesn’t try to move away. Rather than pull again, Elias has moved on to experimenting with different petting styles. Reluctantly, Jon finds himself relaxing when his scratching lingers between his ears and drifting to the base of his neck.

“You were fond of this even before getting these, but it is interesting to see how you react now,” Elias starts, pleased in the way Jon’s eyes unwittingly close. “See, you’re even purring.”

“Shut up,” he mumbles back though any bite in it is absent. He’s content and this was Elias’s fault anyway, so he should deal with the consequences.

“You are fixing this after,” Jon cracks an eye open to stare at Elias, who was still scratching gently at his nape. He closes it again soon after, trying not to stress too much about how strange it felt to have appendages he shouldn’t.

“After?” Elias muses, closing their distance again this time to nip at his earlobe. The hand Jon had been resting on the arm of the sofa flinches, tearing into the cushion. The discrepancy between one calm activity and one that gives a very different implication startled him, and he certainly did not feel bad about the outcome.

“I’m not paying for that,” he lets out testily, followed by a short gasp as Elias begins making his way down his neck. In lieu of a proper response, Jon’s only given a hum before the bites turn sharper, harder. There’s a slightly different edge to it than usual, as if whatever the tome did even managed to sharpen Elias’s teeth, but it’s a detail he only thinks in passing.

As much as he complains about it, beyond familiarity, what makes these things bearable with someone like Elias is he can see and read his boundaries before even Jon realizes them. In that regard, he trusts the man. He shouldn’t, case in point with this whole situation, but he has only ever promised him the eventuality of answers and assurance they will be to his expectations. Jon may not enjoy or have wished for the experiences he’s had, but he knows deep down he doesn’t necessarily regret them as much as he should. Not when he knows now just what they’ve done for him. The answers they gave. The power.

He’s lost himself in that sometimes. The Knowing and the Seeing. He is forever seemingly a moth to that blindingly atrocious, yet beautiful light.

Something he had denied and feared for so long, but with Elias there’s freedom to it now. Acceptance. Even if his patience is constantly tried.

He inhales sharply as a hand unbuttons enough of his dress shirt to fondle a nipple. Gently, ever so gently that he barely catches on in time, Elias shifts his legs apart enough to press one knee to approximately where his crotch would be hidden under the folds of the skirt. A whine leaves him unintentionally because through the fabric it barely feels like anything at all, even as his cock twitches in response. Jon doesn’t need to voice his complaints—he knows Elias can hear them and feel them, but he knows similarly he won’t actually do anything until he speaks up.

Adjusting for discomfort immediately without question is one thing, making him beg as a form of consent is another.

“How would you like this?” Elias asks so simply. It’s the option for an out, but the question has thoughts and images rushing through Jon’s mind. Things they’ve done. Things he wouldn’t mind again right now. The burning question of whether their current ailments are causing any influence, and if that was another thing Elias knew and refused to share. Somehow, he doubts that part—which lends itself further to the theory that Elias had his own ideas and irritatingly is keeping them to himself.

The man in question smiles at him in a chiding way, applying a touch more pressure with his nails against the skin of his chest. “I believe I asked a question, Jon.”

Hesitantly, he grinds into that knee, still thinking things over. The question does make him want to hide, squirm away into that place he can go to when they start proper if Elias lets him. Usually though, like now, he’s dragging him out bit by bit—quite appropriate of one who wants to watch and strip him bare both physically and mentally.

He isn’t afraid of sex. On the surface, it is a messy activity that occasionally is worth the pleasure that comes with it. It’s the intimacy that comes with it, however, that truly scares him. That raw sensation of uncontrollable openness Jon has no way of hiding from. It’s terrifying, enthralling. But he’s found acceptance—Elias has accepted him. Wants it. Wants him.

Jon doesn’t vocalize what he’s thinking, but he does focus on one image. The fantasy of it playing behind his eyelids broadcasted for Elias and he must be feeling kind if he isn’t still pushing Jon to speak.

It might have something to do with putting them in this situation in the first place. Even then, Jon is surprised he’s being so nice.

“Very well, we can do that.” With all the grace Elias normally has, it feels even more fluid this time as he slinks off him and stands. Delicately, he leans down and presses the stop button on the tape recorder. They both know if it wants to keep recording, there will simply be another one waiting for them in the bedroom. Whatever else their new forms cause in this regard though is something even Jon is fighting himself on wanting to catalogue—not that he sincerely believes what they’re about to do has any relevance to how the tome has changed them.

He turns and heads there now, and in a daze, Jon moves to join him feeling much less graceful in comparison.

Jon typically hates showing skin wishing to avoid the sensation of feeling exposed. When clothed it’s easier to hide and vulnerability aside, it’s also simply easier to pretend his body isn’t nearly as scarred as he knows it is. Considering who’s looking, there won’t be the lingering and questioning stares like those of strangers when he’s on the tube. Right now at least, it’s freeing if only for the sheer fact his new tail has a little less pressure from the elastic that was pinching it to his back as he slips the skirt off. If this lasts longer than the next day or two, he’ll have to make adjustments to his clothes, but such a mundane fact is the last thing he has on his mind right now.

Elias is once again watching him seated from the bed, and that shiver returns as to why he doesn’t normally like to be naked. His expression reflects how effortlessly the man has mentioned that watching him is one of his favorite things to do, and Jon personally can’t understand it even now. It at least made sense when he was plotting; quietly maneuvering all the pieces on his elaborate board game, but maybe in a way he’s still doing that. After all, he had freely admitted that Jon learning his place on the board and coming to willingly take those moves on his own wasn’t a part of his initial plan—just one he seemed happy to see nonetheless.

Slowly, he unbuttons a few more buttons of his dress shirt, but ultimately leaves it on. Elias doesn’t comment, not even to tease on how it was more notably the top buttons below the collar he slips apart, and merely continues to watch. The way his ears flick just slightly, alongside how well he’s come to know the man are the only indications Jon has on any of it. His steps take him to beside the bed, and after a beat of hesitation, he straddles one of Elias’s knees and braces his hands on his shoulders.

Immediately, Elias’s hands find purchase on Jon’s hips, one hand drifting closer to his lower back. Jon lets out a shaky breath as that hand brushes just below the waistband of his pants where his new tail meets his skin. Jon shifts so it’s more of an embrace than a balancing act, wanting instead to hide in the crook of Elias’s shoulder as he slowly begins to guide himself along the other man’s thigh, moving closer so he can rut at his chest. He can feel himself already leaking and it’s embarrassing, not at all helped as the hand on his lower back starts playing with the sensitive tail he never asked for. As he’s starting to get comfortable, Elias tugs on the tail. Not sharp enough for genuine pain, but testing the sensation to see how Jon would react.

What he likely wasn’t expecting was for Jon’s hands to tighten their grip, impulsively shredding down the cloth of Elias’s dress shirt, tearing it enough for slivers of blood to rise at the newly made cuts.

It’s satisfying hearing the exhalation of pain soaked pleasure, a sure sign that the bastard got what he deserved and wouldn’t try that again. It’s less satisfying when it only dissolves into a chuckle as Elias moves his hand away, instead navigating Jon away from where he’d been trying to hide and into a kiss. He indulges him briefly, before biting Elias’s lower lip. None of this dissuades him though, and irritatingly Jon can tell it’s acting as encouragement.

At some point during the kiss, he’s moved back to holding him, and in short work, Elias slips the hand holding Jon’s waist under his thighs, lifting him just slightly to shift him properly on the bed. The movement is a little jarring, but more so that his tail seems to move on its own out of the way of being crushed by his back.

Elias hisses in a not quite human way himself as he slowly removes his now ruined shirt. Jon doesn’t feel the least bit sympathetic, instead a little entranced by the severity of the lines staining the back now facing him. An odd impulse to lick at the wounds flickers through his mind, and while he’s quick to dismiss it, it definitely catches Elias’s attention.

He sits back at the edge of the bed and looks over his shoulder at the Archivist sprawled. There’s no need to say out loud what his eyes say for him. So Jon sits up again and slinks forward to splay his hands on Elias’s back taking in the extent of the damage. In that same daze, he’s moved forward the rest of the way, tentatively licking up a bead of blood along the stripe of reddened skin. Jon feels more than hears Elias’s sigh and he snaps out of it.

“Elias… what exactly did you intend when you read from that book?”

A shiver wracks through Elias and Jon is startled as he didn’t think he’d been asking that earnestly. In truth, he hadn’t really been thinking at all.

There’s a pause as he catches his breath, and with deliberate patience to prove he’s still in control, only then does Elias offer an answer.

“I wanted to see what you would do,” he twists around, a familiar smile in place as he knows it isn’t a satisfactory answer at all, however true he means it. Jon’s frown speaks as much.

“Now then, will you let me finish undressing or were you not finished?”

His irritation bleeds into arousal as even though he’ll complain about everything else regarding their current state, Jon has been given the reins with this one. He remains where he is until Elias has left for the adjoining bathroom and then tries to get comfortable. It’s easier when there aren’t eyes directly on him, even if he knows truly that he’s never really free of them.

The brief sound of the faucet is calming, and by the time Elias returns his annoyance, while still present, has simmered back down. He joins him soon enough, and all at once again he feels the dual maddening sensation of being quietly observed in all its assurance and fear. He watches too though, as Elias kneels on the bed above him and traces his hands up Jon’s thighs causing shivers in their wake. Elias’s hands are still slightly cold and damp, and being exposed like this always makes him fidget.

“Would you be a dear and tell me what it is you’d like again? I believe in all that excitement, it must have slipped my mind,” Elias asks, fingers now playing along the waistband of Jon’s panties, not quite taking them off, but teasingly letting the silk fabric brush against his cock. Whatever amount of kindness he’d attributed the man earlier clearly meant nothing, and the smug smile presented towards him now only makes him bare his teeth.

“What does it matter if you’ll do as you like anyway?”

Elias lowers himself, his hands having abandoned their place at Jon’s waistband and now rucking up the bottom of his dress shirt. His breath ghosts the skin of Jon’s stomach before biting down and sucking harshly. Jon yelps and reaches for Elias’s head, though he doesn’t attempt to pull him off so much as tugs at his hair in response to the treatment—almost pulling at one of his cat ears instead. He only feels him moan in response, not letting up until he’s satisfied the mark will be a vibrant purple. The momentary lick Elias gives before pulling back has Jon thankful again that their tongues hadn’t been changed as well.

“I’m sure you’ll give me your input regardless. Now then, shall we?”

If he wasn’t busy panting, Jon would call him out for being a bastard, but judging from his expression Elias knows well enough what he’s thinking. Feeling Elias rub his hands along his sides is placating to a degree, but the motion is also a gentle reminder that he’s waiting for an answer.

“I-I don’t want any penetration—but between my thighs is fine,” Jon finally gets out, a twinge of annoyance at being forced to admit it out loud. The desire is in equal parts wanting an easier to clean mess and because he can’t see a particularly comfortable way to prepare for anything more with the state their nails are in. A fact that is likely obvious and one the man above him could have realized on his own, but he’s almost certain putting Jon in situations like this where he must confess his desires is pleasurable in its own way.

Still, for all his irritation, Elias moves back up and distracts him with a kiss. It’s difficult to tell whether he’s genuinely trying to ease the jittery sensation he’s caused or chase after it. It works in calming Jon down enough though that when he feels the palm of Elias’s hand brush and rub at the bulge threatening to escape his underwear, his nervousness doesn’t get in the way of enjoying it.

His noises are their own quiet admissions that he’s enjoying this and Elias happily swallows them all, pinching Jon’s lower lip between his teeth again as a reward. Jon has already seen the lengths Elias will deny him if he tries to quiet himself or close his eyes.

“Hold yourself for me,” Elias tells him, leaving one final kiss on the scar adorning his neck. Once they break, anticipation pools in Jon’s stomach. He’s slow and deliberate as he moves away again, finally sliding down the slightly soiled silk from Jon’s waist and watches him. It’s mystifying still for Jon, being looked at like this considering what he knows his body looks like. Yet, Elias looks at him like he’s everything, as bizarre as that feeling is.

“My Archivist… do you want to see for yourself?” The man muses in response no doubt once again reading what he’s thinking. Jon intends to say no or ignore the sentiment, but like the times before he’s shown anyway.

Through Elias’s eyes, he watches the man trace the remnants of worm holes, long scarred over. He trails down his arm and lingers on his hand, palm holding his burn scar as his thumb brushes along the faded pink scar Michael left him. He shivers again with the weight of that gaze. It’s more than simply being Seen when Elias talks to him like this he’s found.

It helps a little, oddly enough. Jon will never quite understand it beyond knowing Elias had a vision and a plan for him, but to be gazed at like this is nice.

Moments after, it’s disorienting to return to his own line of sight, and it takes him an extra minute to realize he’s supposed to position himself. He raises his hips, uncomfortably shifting to hold his legs together and hates the way Elias leaves him hanging like that. His prick is pressed against his stomach smearing precum, and he wants to look away out of embarrassment. The man is obviously just enjoying himself, but Jon’s tail swishes in impatience.

“Sheathe your claws, I was just admiring the view,” Elias reassures and closes their distance, taking a hold of Jon’s calves and places a hand on his hip. It helps significantly in easing Jon’s tension, no longer needing to hold himself up on his own. His breath hitches soon after though as he feels Elias position himself between his thighs. The sight is somehow more erotic even though what they’re doing is a mere pantomime of the act itself—though, it’s likely the similar enough sensation along with watching Elias’s cock move in and out that gets to him.

Jon doesn’t even quite know where to focus his attention after a point. There’s the aforementioned view of the act in question, his own body in frame next to it and then there is Elias. Usual, perfectly composed Elias is wonderful to view like this. Jon has more than once thought the man was obnoxiously beautiful to the point where his tastes and sense of decorum were annoyingly impressed upon Jon. Even the moment he’d divulged wanting to once more express himself outside the confines of what was thought to be strictly male business fashion, the man was relentless in his gifts of long silk skirts and dresses designed for galas he’d only attend once, maybe twice, if negotiated, a year.

Like this though, that carefully constructed image he pieced together fell to pieces. Jon knows by now, Elias isn’t ‘human’, that he himself is becoming less human as the days go on, but right now they’re doing something that feels unlike whatever godly status Elias strives for.

It’d be easier to lose himself in the sensation if allowed to close his eyes, but Jon knows and already sees the disappointed stare that would greet him if he tried. Perhaps more threatening is the awareness that Elias would do more than just that. His disappointment while devastating is nothing compared to the teasing and repeated denial he’d impose to get what he wants. To ensure that Jon knows better and acknowledges not only that he will watch, but that deep down Jon would prefer to see too.

Elias is mostly quiet above him, the set of heavier breaths come from the movement involved and surely the pleasure he’s feeling. Jon’s legs feel just as messy the more he feels Elias move, his member spreading slick precum between his thighs with each thrust.

He doesn’t notice himself how good the watching and the sensation of it make him feel, but Elias must as he shifts their position just slightly. Opening Jon’s thighs more, he slots himself in easily, instead moving the hand he’d been using to help hold the Archivist’s legs up to instead grip both their pricks and stroke them together. 

Jon moans and arches into his touch, having it hit him all at once how desperately he’d been wanting that and wanting Elias close. Without needing to speak it, he’s granted the kiss he wanted, too lost in the feeling to realize how noisy he’s become with his mouth now open. When Elias tries to move back, Jon chases his mouth. The kiss resumes with a chuckle that Jon quickly silences with another bite.

“Eager thing aren’t you?” Elias teases him when they break next and too swept up in it all, Jon doesn’t even register the inhuman growl he lets out at being teased or denied contact once again. As to which bothered him worse, even he doesn’t know. Never once does it occur to Jon that he’s become less dependent on air when they kiss and that each time they break it is for different reasons entirely. Elias is pleased nonetheless from that reaction, and rewards him by increasing his pace just slightly. 

His vision shifts dramatically as release hits him, Elias once again making his point loud and clear. Layered across his skin are dozens of eyes rapidly opening, and if he isn’t mistaken, there’s a few on Elias himself no doubt wanting to capture the event as thoroughly as possible. It borders on overwhelming. The fear of acknowledging himself like this—seeing the way Elias practically adores it.

Jon comes back to himself slowly, unsure if he’s uncomfortable by having to view himself that way or by distinctly how filthy he’s aware his stomach and legs have become. What’s worse is, as he looks down when Elias gets off the bed to fetch a washcloth for them, Jon sees his tail is still there.

There is absolutely no reason to think sex would fix this. Nothing suggested as much obviously, but it was a momentary distraction from how much the situation irked him. Now that it was over, he’s also aware that Elias likely had meant it as such. A poor attempt at changing the subject and maybe an even poorer excuse of an apology. No, the man wasn’t sorry in the least bit—he probably was genuinely excited by the inhumanity of it given how pleased he looked at… the eyes.

Jon shivers as he recalls that part too. It isn’t the first time he’s seen it, and while he’s made his choice, acceptance only comes sparingly. Whatever it meant to become the Archivist was something he’s given into. This change, he thinks trying to ignore his new appendages once more, however, he direly hopes is temporary.

For now, Jon finally closes his eyes and resolves to prod Elias for a proper answer when he returns.

**Author's Note:**

> my head feels like mush and i'll probably notice more typos later, but after a couple readovers im hitting post anyway. thank you for reading!


End file.
